


fist first philosophy

by cptsuke



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: Deran Cody was a clusterfuck of a human being but he was also Adrian's best friend.(what im hoping will be a series of ficlets about my faves)





	1. Chapter 1

The last rays of the days sunlight are barely visible through the gaps in the curtain, and if Adrian closes his eyes he can hear the sound of waves somewhere under the distant noise of traffic. Or maybe it's just the sound of Deran's heart beating beneath his skin.

He still smells and tastes of their last dip in the ocean; salt and sand are probably ruining his bedsheets even as they lay here but like thoughts of tomorrow's work and whatever shit's got Deran trying to bury himself in Adrian, he's choosing to ignore it in favor of a lazy afternoon and what he's hoping is a lazier evening.

Deran was like the sea, calm and cruel, fun and fathomless. He could shelter you beneath the waves or crash you into the coral, and just like the sea Adrian doesn't know how to exist without Him.

If only he could stop himself from hoping one day Deran would fit inside his own skin.

“It doesn't matter, you know.” He says into the space between Deran's lowest rib and the hipbone that juts out when he's laying flat like this. “No one cares about me, No one cares about Maddy, About you, no one would-” Adrian bites his lip as Deran shifts beneath him, sitting up and displacing Adrian from his comfortable spot.

It's an old argument, even when they're not yelling.

 _No one would care about Deran._ That's not the whole truth but it's close enough.

The people that mattered wouldn't care, their surfing friends, not the ones Deran used to do petty crimes with whenever he thought no one was paying him enough attention, they didn't care about nothing but the day's surf report.

Adrian doesn't know about Deran's brothers. All of them excel at going for the jugular when they scented a weakness, or what they decided was a soft point. But Adrian would bet his every surfboard that at the very least he'd have Craig in his corner. Deran's closest brother might be responsible for more of Deran's bloody noses than his surfing and skating combined, but the two of them had a bond that maybe bordered on co-dependent, but Adrian didn't think there was much on this earth that could turn them from each other.

He wasn't jealous, _he wasn't_ , it was good that Deran had someone on his side. Permanently. Besides what he and Deran had was the same. Different. But the same.

“I'm not, I mean, anyway, people care.” Deran says, looking sideways at Adrian, like he's hesitating, “And your dad. He doesn't. I mean, you know. And. Smurf. She'd.”

Adrian tries not to roll his eyes at the stab about his dad, his homophobic distaste for his son the worst kept secret in Oceanside.

“Can we not talk about my dad and your mom? Or how you're not gay when I'm trying to have sex with you?”

“Come on, man.” He says shoving roughly at Adrian's shoulder.

Adrian chokes a curse and tackles him back down on the bed.

Deran squirms beneath him.

“What? 'fraid you're gonna get gay on you?” He laughs, a hand pressing down Deran's pants just to hear him whine.

Teeth bite into lip with a drawn out _fffuck you_ and Adrian loses himself in the motion of Deran's spine arching, his ribs pushing upwards to the place Adrian's hand fits so perfectly. He forgets himself biting up Deran's neck and sticks his tongue in his ear so he can feel the way Deran's muscles move as he half chokes half squeals out a laugh. And Adrian feels all powerful for all of ten seconds before floor becomes ceiling and – _dammit_ – he always forgets that Deran might be smaller, but his main wrestling partner is his giant of brother. And now Adrian's pinned down, Deran hovering above with a single hand pressing down next to the scar where Adrian snapped his collarbone two years past.

“I'm not,” Deran mumbles through a curtain of unwashed hair. Then he sinks his mouth down on Adrian.

 _Jesus Christ_.

Adrian's hand moves down to cradle the back of Deran's skull, his thumb shifting and stroking as Deran freezes almost imperceptibly then continues.

He's always been weird about hands in his hair, half reveling in the touch, half wary and ready to flinch away at first sign of cruelty, so Adrian keeps his hand soft.

He doesn't know who Deran thinks he's kidding if he thinks this is anyway to prove his supposed heterosexual proclivities but Adrian'll give him an A for effort anyway.


	2. teenagers with nicotine stained hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this is one hundred percent @theninjazebra & @onecoloradaykeepsthedoctoraway 's faults for interacting me and encouraging me)

“Have you tried not being gay?”

Deran's still thumbing his nose even though it stopped dripping a few minutes ago. Adrian feels the skin over his knuckles tighten as he clenches his fists; he fantasizes about popping his best friend in the face and takes several deep breaths til the idea passes.

“Don't be an asshole.” He says finally, shoving Deran's shoulder a little harder than he might usually do.

Somedays he doesn't get Deran at all, he's literally bleeding, going to be wearing a black eye for the rest of the week from jumping in on Adrian's fight, Adrian doesn't even need Deran to fight his battles, Deran might pack more fury per square inch in his small body, but Adrian's a big kid and the daily hours of paddling his board out and swimming have given him arms that can pack a punch.

“I'm just saying, it's just. Wouldn't it be easier, if you just? You know?”

Then he goes and says shit like that.

“No, I don't fucking know, Deran!”

He must split his lip again shouting because Deran's eyes drop to his mouth. Adrian swipes his sleeve angrily across it as Deran's face screws up into an impressive scowl before looking around his shoulders hunching.

“Never fucking mind.” He says fumbling in his pocket for his smokes, lighting one up and frowning out past the bleachers.

Sometimes Adrian thinks Deran comes to school just to start fights - he never seems to go to classes anymore – and other times Adrian wonders if he shows up so no one forgets him.

“I just,” Deran starts again, a little quieter, a little less confrontational. “Why'd you have to tell anyone?”

Deran pulls his knees up, his arms coming up to wrap around them.

“Everyone's being a jerk. _Your Dad_ is being a jerk.”

“He's always been kind of a jerk,” Adrian shrugs, more carefree than he feels, answering glibly. “least now he's got a reason.”

He sees the top of Deran's nose wrinkle in a scowl his face burying further into his arms before he looks up and takes another drag from his cigarette.

“I should fucking punch _him_.”

“Please don't punch my dad, he already hates you.”

Deran gives a broken glass kind of laugh, but doesn't say anything more.

Instead they both go quiet, Adrian just breathing, trying not to think what Deran's thinking that's got him twisting around like he is, sucking on the cigarette like it's oxygen.

“Jesus Christ, that's gonna stunt your growth, you know.” Adrian teases just because Deran hasn't automatically offered him a puff.

“Shut up.” Deran says a hand up, warding off Adrian's seeking hand.

“You're going to be a midget forever,” Adrian laughs as Deran's face reddens.

“Shut the fuck up, I'm going to be taller than Craig."

“So I should take advantage while you're this size, huh?”

Deran's half formed _what?_ turns into a high pitched squeak as Adrian tackles him.

For the cigarette.

Definitely.

They scuffle around for a minutes, more play than anything, til finally Adrian comes out on top, one handpinning Deran down the other plucking the cigarette from his lip.

It occurs to him as he takes a victory puff still half sitting on Deran, that he's never been able to pin Deran down for this long before. He automatically slides to the side and watches Deran's red face from the corner of his eye as they sit up.

“Come surfing after?” Dean asks, kicking a foot idly.

Adrian sighs and takes a long drag from the cigarette.

“I'll probably be grounded later.” He will be, once school calls his dad and tells him he's been fighting. And who he's been fighting with. What the fight was about will be just icing on the cake as far as Adrian's dad will be concerned.

Deran's foot kicks harder, nose crinkling like he can't believe people get grounded. He gestures for his cigarette back and leaps to his feet once Adrian hands it over. Cigarette in mouth he stretches, arms high to the sky, shirt lifting and Adrian stares for a split second too long before quickly looking away.

Deran looks down, a slow grin with blood stained teeth spreading across his face.

“Wanna go now then?”

Maybe, Adrian will think later, he's a bit of an idiot and it shouldn't have been such a big surprise when six months later Deran crowds him into someplace private and sticks his hand down Adrian's pants with that same soft pink blush.


	3. seventeen/eighteen

Deran had been on edge lately, in the long stretches between surf comps and missing days, sometimes weeks where Adrian doesn't get to see him because he's too busy with _Cody family stuff;_ Adrian had hoped a day blocked out for surfing would settle things. Maybe even dragging the day into an evening someplace quiet and private. But Deran had been late, his shoulders hitched up and tense like his mother was riding around on his back and that seemed to set the tone for the afternoon.

Deran's emotions are an unstable thing on a good day lately, explosive and dangerous to everyone including himself, and his embarrassment for being late had only served to annoy him more no matter how much Adrian had tried to stress that he was just glad he could make it at all.

Deran had seemed to be smoothing out, or at least calming down enough to enjoy the waves.

There's a few people out today - not so many that it was impossible to catch a wave – but Deran's glaring at a group of older guys, maybe late twenties-early thirties. They keep floating closer and closer to the spot Adrian and Deran have staked out, catching waves that by rights should have been theirs.

Adrian's seriously considering suggesting they pack it in – find that quiet private place and get off handful of times and see if that has any effect on Deran's shitty mood. He doesn't want to deal with this, the posturing and the insults and the fighting, not today. Not when he's supposed to be cheering Deran up, not pissing him off more.

He's paddling back to their spot after catching a wave when he realizes he's left it too late.

Deran's moved closer to the group of men, shoulders braced like he's got his pack of brothers behind him instead of just Adrian too far back to be any good at being back-up.

“Hey fuck you!” Deran's yelling right up in one's face.

“Fuck you too, you little pussy. Get the fuck outta here kid.” The guy shoves at Deran, whose hand shoots out shoves it back away from him.

“Don't fucking-”

a punch

“Hey!” Adrian yells as he fucking finally gets back.

Blood dripping from a split in Deran's lip but he doesn't look anything but annoyed.

“Come on, guys.” One of the friends says, tired.

“He's just kid, Rob.” Another says and Deran stiffens at the words.

The guy, Rob, snorts, looks away, mutters something derisive that Adrian can't hear but Deran makes an angry noise, the guy ignores him and starts paddling for a wave. Deran's face darkens and before Adrian can say anything he's going for the same wave.

They both managed to catch it, but they're too close and the clash before going down in a messy mash of body, waves and boards.

Adrian sees Deran's board fly up, maybe clips him from the way his body jolts, then falls beneath the wave crashing white water.

“Deran? Deran?!” Adrian doesn't know why he's yelling, he can't see anything, the waters too choppy, too foamy to see anything beneath it.

Rob's is paddling back red faced and angry but he looks around, almost worried when he realizes that Deran's not come back up.

Deran's board floats free and he's not coming up. Adrian paddles over to it, corrals it in and checks it over; the leash is intact but Deran's nowhere to be seen.

This can't be happening, Deran can hold his breath for a long fucking time but if he's knocked out that doesn't mean shit. _This can't be happening,_ Adrian thinks, looking around wildly as if he's just not looking hard enough.

A hand shoot out of the ocean, grabbing Rob's wrist, The guy tries to jump back as Deran's head surfaces, and Adrian feels a swell of relief even though there's a dark look in his eyes that makes Adrian shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the wind that's picking up.

He watches as Deran's shoulders shift back as his chest expands, taking several deep breaths before dragging the guy down, both of them disappearing with Rob's high pitched shriek of terror.

There's a long silence as they all just float, Adrian with relief that his idiot best friend hasn't drowned himself, he doesn't particularly care about the other surfer, you start fights on the ocean eventually you're going to come up against someone whose more than ready to hit back. The other surfers seem to be in shock, they're half calling out, half just looking around like they can't believe what just happened.

They're both down for a long time.

Finally the guy pops up out of the ocean some fifty feet away from where they're all floating. He's half crying, half gasping for breath as he swims back to his friends and his board.

Deran surfaces lazily like he doesn't care one way or another if he ever breathes air again.

Seawater's dripping down Deran's face mixing with blood leaving lines of dark pink down the sides of his face, running down to stain the splashes of color on his wetsuit.

There's no more name calling, no bravado. The ocean's gone quiet as the group paddles back to the beach, watching Deran with wild eyes.

“Whose the pussy now?” Deran asks no one. His voice is mean, but not like Adrian's heard before; it's cold and wild, twisted into something unhinged. The look in his eyes as he watches them swim - _run –_ away is no longer a warning, it's a dare, an invitation, begging for a fight, for a chance to prove something.

They stay out for a little longer but neither of them have their hearts in it. Deran's head is still steadily dripping blood and every fresh run of red fills Adrian with worry.

Is he swaying because of the tide, or is he about to drop from a concussion?

Finally, after Deran had bombed out on a particularly easy wave, Adrian decides they need to go in, Deran's just gonna keep getting more and more frustrated, fucking up simple shit and building himself up into a Mood, which Adrian is too tired to deal with on a good day.

“I'm beat, man,” Adrian says, as Deran scowls out at the horizon. “Wanna get something to eat? Chill for a bit?”

Deran looks at him, the two of them bobbing on the waves looking at each other, then he snots an impressive amount of seawater out of his nose, closes his eyes and finally looks as tired as he's no doubt been feeling all day, nodding

“Yeah, a'ight.”

By the time they get to the beach and hit the showers Deran's eyes are drooping in a way that makes Adrian's stomach flip in worry. He grabs Deran by the arm, jerks him around til his heads in the sunlight and maybe Adrian can see where the fuck all the bloods coming from.

“Hey! Ow, what the fuck?” He snaps pulling away, an arm coming up like he's expecting to need to guard himself, “Jesus Christ, what's your fucking problem?”

“I was worried, asshole!” he fires back and Deran's staring at him, mouth open, red spreading across his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears.

Deran shakes his head then drops down on one of the benches with his head bowed. There's a good size cut running through his hair near the crown, but it looks like it's just weeping blood now, not pouring out, maybe its not too deep, maybe it _is_ okay.

Deran lets him fuss for longer than Adrian thinks is usual, so it must hurt some, but he only gets about a two second look at his pupils before Deran's standing up and toweling the last of the water off.

He's a sight with his wetsuit pushed down to his hips but Adrian is for once not just enjoying the view, not with the way he's gingerly trying to dry his hair, the towel coming back a little more red each time.

Adrian's fingers twitch to get another look but he holds off, he can wait til they're back at the house, when they're away from prying eyes.

“You know, Nico got me a video of years Mavericks, we could get take out and watch some real pros.”

Deran throws the towel at Adrian with a laughed _fuck you._

“Hey I rode waves at Mavericks.”

“You were in the hospital for two days because you nearly drowned.”

“That was at the end!” Deran defends, “I rode ones before the last one.”

They joke about Deran's ill-fated trip to the big waves as they shove each other towards the scout. Joke like Adrian hadn't spent hours worrying when Craig and Deran hadn't returned from Princeton. When he'd had no way to contact them and he didn't dare go and ask Smurf because he knew Craig and Deran had run off, taken the five hundred mile roadtrip to Half Moon Bay without asking for permission and things were already weird at Casa Cody that month.

Anytime he'd spent at the Cody household lately had already been tense, every conversation between family had been filled with not so subtly hidden barbs and Adrian had to pretend he was too stupid to realize the reason behind all he interpersonal hostility was the lack of high stake heists in the news the last couple of months.

So he'd waited, worried, and when a pale Deran with dark rings around his eyes had come back late, boasting of the waves he'd ridden, the board he'd snapped and the time he'd spent held under by relentless waves, and when Deran was back and okay as he was going to get, Adrian had tucked that worry away . Because he knew the hell Dean would be getting at home, and he wouldn't make it hostile here as well.

Adrian thinks sometimes the only reason he and Deran have stayed so close is that Adrian knows when to push and when to let things go.

He throws the towel back, puts a flick on it so the wet part slaps Deran in the face.

“Fuck you, man.” Deran says, a smile in his voice, throwing the towel in the back of the scout and head towards his pile of clothes in the front seat.

Adrian's settling his board in the back when notices Deran's gone quiet. He looks up to see Deran's head bowed over his phone, fingers white where he's gripping it hard.

Adian doesn't need to ask to know what that's about and he feels a burst of rage. Can't Smurf leave him alone for one fucking day? Is one afternoon too much for Adrian to fucking ask?

He tries to tamp that rage down, be practical, some of their skate crew friends were talking about hitting the waves today, they could be still around to take Adrian home if Deran's gotta cut.

“I can get a ride from one of the guys, if you've gotta go.” Adrian keeps his tone even as he suggests it.

He's not mad at Deran, he tells himself, no matter how much Adrian might wish he'd stand up to his mom. They're still kids and Julia's sudden and complete fall from grace was still fresh enough in everyone's mind. No matter how much Adrian he'd love to see Deran out from under Smurf's thumb, he doesn't know if Deran would survive being cut from his brothers, thrown to the mercy of the world without anything but a propensity for violence and theft.

Deran's carefully blank face crumples for a moment before he pulls it back together. When he looks up he pastes on a grin he obviously isn't feeling, shrugging with an exaggerated _I don't care._

“Nah, fuck it, I got time, it's fine.” He says though the way he scratches at his neck as he texts back an answer says that's probably a lie. Adrian let's him have it, sometimes if you said something enough it could become a sort of truth.

The short drive back to the house Adrian shares with Chad is mostly silent, Deran and Adrian both half starting to say something – _anything_ – and then failing, in between the _ding_ of Deran's phone's notifications, the harsh noise making Deran's shoulders pull up tight with tension.

When they finally pull up in front of Adrian's house, Deran swallows a couple of time before finally speaking.

“Sorry, man.” Deran says, his voice sounding rough as he stares straight ahead, like he can't look at Adrian.

“It's okay,” Adrian shrugs, “Give us a call when you can.”

Adrian reaches a hand out but Deran flinches back, shoulders flexing outward like he's trying to pretend he didn't just do it, like he's trying to pull together the posture of someone who didn't give a fuck, like he's not looking around wild eyed like he's somehow impossibly expecting his mom to be hiding outside Adrian's house waiting to catch him acting gay.

Adrian doesn't know how he has the energy for it, all tense muscles and constant self correction, Deran cares so much he makes Adrian tired just watching him try to please everyone while yelling loudly about how he doesn't care.

Adrian sighs and lets it go as Deran looks down at his lap hair falling down to cover his face.

Neither of them say much as Adrian retrieves his board, pats the Scout as he passes behind it.

He calls out a _see you_ as he walks away and gets a grunt in reply.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he unlocks the door, he can see Deran staring at him, a weird almost wistful look on his face. Adrian thinks of turning back, of waving goodbye, of telling him he's a fucking pussy, of stalking back and kissing him in the broad daylight and to hell with everyone and everything.

Instead he lets Deran have his moment of private regret, and swears one day it's gonna be different.


	4. last days of summer

The summer Adrian breaks his collarbone sucks. He's out of the water, off his board most of July, all of August, and when school comes back it somehow manages to suck just that little bit more. He's been out in the water a couple of times since it started healing, but the rotating motion of paddling on his surfboard makes it feel like he's grinding glass between his bones; the doctor says it'll get better, stop hurting and have full range of motion, but right now it feels like its _taking f o r e v e r._

Deran's already out on the waves by the time Adrian makes his way to the beach. Schools not usually so tedious but between his arm in a sling and the ache and itch of bones healing, the classroom had been unbearable by the time the final bell had rung.

The beach is quiet for once, in the golden time between adults getting off work and tourists turning in for the day as the wind picks up and the day gets less idyllic, he spots one of the Cody's communal blue towels with Deran's rucksack half underneath it like he'd dropped them both carelessly in his rush to be in the water, and Adrian settles down comfortably in the sand next to Deran's stuff, tries not feel too weird watching the surfers alone.

Deran's always a fucking sight to see when he's surfing, all sharp moves and smooth confidence, cutting through waves like they only raised up for him. Adrian gives up pretending to be only half paying attention, leans forward as he watches Deran paddle for a wave, ride it up to the rail and bail out.

For a brief moment Adrian's fingers stop itching for a board beneath them and he starts wishing he had a camera instead. Deran always looks so laid back and cool on a wave, he wants to capture that moment, wants to be able to look back at it when things are less than calm.

Deran's up again, catching another wave that looks like it's going to hold up well for him. His legs pump, pushing for more speed, cutting along the bottom of the wave, skirting the edge of white as he pushes past the breaking wave to the wall of it. He's going fast as carves across, up to the lip and into the air.

Board and boy flip up, a hand grabbing the edge of the board as he brings it round and they come back down into the white water. For a moment it looks like he's going to stick the landing, a flash of white teeth as he grins prematurely and then he disappears into the wave, board shooting out before catching on the lead and Deran's dumped ass drags it back. He still looks happy as he gets back onto his board a paddles back out, and Adrian flops back down in the sand.

He thinks sometimes, if Smurf hadn't been Deran's mom, if Deran had been anyone else but a Cody, it would have been Deran Nico had taught to stand on a board at two. He was just as good as Adrian, even if he spent more time fucking around instead of working on technique.

Deran's got an ego, Adrian knows this, he's not blind to Dean's faults like some lovesick puppy. But his ego is somehow more tied to who his family is - his place in said family – like he's constantly try prove his worth while not being able to tell if he has any beyond what he can do for people. Adrian still remembers when he first started competing seriously, when he'd begged Deran to come along. He'd looked up at Adrian with this look, lip between his teeth, half grinning, half squinting at Adrian like he expected Adrian to start laughing and say he was _totally joking_. Eventually, when Adrian hadn't done any of that because he was Totally Serious, Deran had just shrugged, shoulders going high as he looked away. He'd been half glaring when he looked back, like Adrian not living up to Deran's expectations of cruel mockery was something he should apologize for.

It had surprised Adrian at the time, that for all Deran's crowing about his supposed surfing prowess, he didn't believe Adrian was serious.

Adrian thinks he had finally broke the stalemate by shrugging and saying something like 'I just think you'd kick ass man, show all the old fucks up,' something that was nice – but not _too_ nice – that had him blushing. And even back then, when Adrian's feelings for Deran had been a more ambiguous need to spend all his time with Deran. _Because they were friends._ Back when he didn't even dream they could be where they are now, that Deran would ever look at Adrian and feel something similar. Even back then Adrian still liked making him blush that pleased pink.

Something wet brushes against his leg startling Adrian out of his thoughts.

He opens his eyes and Deran's standing over him, toeing at his legs with wet feet, flicking sand as he moves.

“What's got you looking like a sad fuck?” He asks, chin lifting as if ready to fight whatever Adrian points him at.

“Just thinking,” is the only reply Adrian can think of. Deran might like to fight just about everything, but even he can't fight stupid melancholy thoughts, or the way how some things Just Are.

“Jesus Christ, don't do that.” Deran says with a laugh and he lays his surfboard down beside Adrian and starts stripping the top half of his wetsuit off, shoving it down to skinny hips.

These last summer months - between competing, surfing and skating til they collapsed from exhaustion – had given Deran abs that made Adrian want to punch god. He fumbles around Deran's rucksack for Deran's pot stash - he's always got some weed on him somewhere – just to pull his eyes away from where he's definitely staring. Deran drops down beside him and takes the freshly rolled joint when Adrian offers it out.

Later when Deran's high and loose limbed in a way he rarely was these days, he takes another deep drag of the joint and leans in close, Adrian opens his mouth and takes in the breath of smoke that Deran exhales. Deran's face suddenly feels too close to his, eyes searching Adrian's as he mutters _best part of the ocean_ then flops down on the sand; stretching before collapsing boneless and self-satisfied.

Adrian lowers himself down beside him, close but not so close.

He doesn't have to worry, in this state Deran just turns on his side, head pillowed on an elbow, leaning his way into Adrian's space.

As long as no one who mattered came along, they can stay like this for what seems like hours, just shooting the shit and enjoying each others company. Sometimes Adrian hated the constant push and pull of what Deran would allow one moment, but wouldn't the next, and sometimes he felt pride that _he_ could read him, that out of anyone he could navigate Deran's choppy waters with relative ease.

Deran's someone else when they're by themselves, like an older more intense version of the ten year old he used to be. All confident swagger and quiet almost shy hope.

“What's the best part of the ocean?” He asks lazily. It doesn't matter, or it did but only in so much that he likes to hear about the things Deran's passionate about. He likes the way Deran speaks when Adrian's managed to thread the conversation past the pitfalls of Deran feeling self conscious and embarrassed for liking things.

Deran's eyes slide closed, a slow smile dawning across his face as he rolls back to face the sky.

“You know, when the ocean's gone all flat? And you need a big one? Just one good set?”

Adrian closes his eyes, can almost feel himself in the ocean, bobbing on boards waiting for something to come in. It's different when you're not competing when there's no clock counting down, when picking the wrong wave didn't mean losing the entire thing.

“Then the whistle comes out from the crowd?” The eye closest to Adrian slips open, a bare sliver as he looks across at Adrian. “And you look out and there's that dark band? And it's coming and you just know it's gonna be a good one.”

Deran rolls back to face him, Adrian offers him the last of the blunt, but he shakes his head, watches Adrian with intensity that makes him shift in the sand. Deran doesn't keep eye contact like this, not in in public. But he is now, staring at Adrian like he was memorizing him.

“Your eyes are a really fucking blue.” He says finally, and _oh._

Adrian has no idea what to do with compliments.

Deran's eyes close, releasing Adrian from his stare, and between the lazy smile on his face and the heated look Deran's carrying in his eyes, Adrian has to physically hold himself still, to not just throw himself at the other boy, has to settle with heat on his cheeks at Deran talking about him, _say_ _ing_ _sweet things about him._

Adrian pulls himself to sitting, drags his knees up and awkwardly drapes his slinged arm over them. Takes the last pull from the joint himself and holds it in his lungs til it feels they might burst. Deran's eyes stay closed, his breathing even and Adrian knows if he lets them stay too long, Deran will definitely fall asleep.

He lets the smoke go, blows it out to be caught by the wind and taken away.

Maybe they could stay here for awhile yet.


End file.
